


Mon chéri

by captainhurricane



Series: Kinktober 2016 [9]
Category: Tale of the Body Thief, Vampire Chronicles - Anne Rice
Genre: Blood Drinking, M/M, but before David's turning so he's human, post tale of the body thief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-17
Updated: 2016-10-17
Packaged: 2018-08-23 00:36:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8307052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainhurricane/pseuds/captainhurricane
Summary: Speak of the devil and he shall come.





	

**Author's Note:**

> kinktober day 17: blood/gore. i chose blood and these two dorks because i can. @ anne rice don't sue me okay i'm a nice person.
> 
> okay look i now canonically david would have rather chewed off his own arm than offer it to lestat but let me have this fantasy okay   
> okay
> 
> who else thought lestat turning david into a vamp in the tale of the body thief was one of the hottest scenes in anything ever

set somewhere before David got turned so he's still in his new young body. 

 

There have been days when David had forgotten that he was still human. He had surrounded himself with more vampires, spirits, nightly children than his fellow humans anyway- had sometimes flinched at his own reflection, his own wide eyes and withering face. Now, however, the reflection doesn't scare him. It intrigues him even when it's a reminder he no longer has his old life, this face of his, this body that has no wrinkles, nothing but lean, smooth muscle and skin that glitters like gold in the right light. 

 

“What have you done, David Talbot?” He asks his reflection. Closes his eyes, remembers the night Lestat had offered to share the Gift with him. Remembers the night when Lestat had offered- Lestat had offered a lot of things, that fool, that young yet old immortal. 

 

David had been tempted, of course. He is as much a sinner as Lestat, perhaps even more and Lestat's brief return to mortal life had shaken both of them to the core: especially when Lestat had appeared to his door with his hair a mess and face glowing, cornering David and smelling of sex and crisp night air. David, however, had lived a good seven decades with several temptations and had long since learned not to give in. 

 

Returning to a young body had made it more difficult than he could say so he's glad when Lestat leaves him alone, whisking himself off to some new adventure, looking for old lovers or new ones. David doesn't say that he misses him but Lestat has a certain spark that had endeared old David to the bright-eyed immortal. 

 

So. So. When David settles into one of the houses in New Orleans, living on his old money, looking for new things to do, he doesn't expect a knock on the door at three am when the moon is at its peak. He doesn't expect to get an armful of Lestat, long slices of his beautiful marble skin turned charred black. 

 

“Oh, fuck, bugger, damn,” Lestat says, smiles a wide, crazed smile, wraps himself around David, his lips cold as they press a kiss against David's pulse. The pulse that he can feel racing. 

“What the hell, Lestat,” David tries, doesn't get another word in when Lestat shoves him inside and closes the door behind them. 

 

“There was a thing,” Lestat says, cracks his neck. He straightens. His feet are bare, the long-sleeved shirt he's wearing hanging mostly in tatters. David crosses his arms, keeps him at an arm's length. He recognizes that expression, that slightly crazed glow in Lestat's blue gaze. His vampire friend is hungry. 

“What did you do?” Lestat pouts. Sways on his feet. Steps a little closer. He tilts his head, squints towards the ceiling.

“You listening to old tunes again, David?” David shudders, his name rolls off the immortal's tongue like a loving caress. Oh, he knew better than to take Lestat to his bed when Lestat had offered, when they had both shared the wilting days of mortality. He couldn't have gone to anyone else afterwards, he would have been ruined. Damn his old soul and weak heart for loving this creature of the night. 

“Naturally,” David murmurs, wraps his arms around himself tighter. Doesn't take a step back even when Lestat steps closer and closer, the cold radiating off him. “I'm not your meal,” David says, swallows hard when Lestat's gaze drops to his neck. 

 

“Just a nibble, my dear David,” Lestat purrs, hypnotizing, beautiful. He's pouting again, his ridiculously long lashes throwing long dark shadows on his cheeks. His hands find David's arms, tug on them to let them fall open. David shudders, reaches, finds a corner of one of those charred wounds. 

 

“What did you do, you fool?” Lestat shifts, his cold lips pressing a kiss to David's fingers. Their gazes stay locked together. David's heart thumps and he knows, he just knows Lestat hears it. 

“I was following this young, gorgeous creature,” Lestat hums, his tongue flicks lazily against David's palm. Lestat is gripping his wrist a little too tight but David makes no comment of it. “They were a little too clever for me. Sue me, I'm tired, I just woke up and I haven't eaten in ages,” Lestat purrs. Takes a step forward. David sighs, gets his hand free and takes the opportunity to stroke Lestat's hair. He untangles it, yanks off a couple of wayward leaves, brushes off dust. Lestat isn't even smirking, a good telltale sign of him being hungry.

 

“I promise I'll stop,” Lestat says, his voice heavy, rough. He reaches for David this time, cups David's face between his cold, dead hands. Lestat's eyes are very, very blue. 

“I wouldn't want to stake you,” David murmurs, pulls on Lestat's hair, elicits a brief, soft chuckle. Oh Lestat, David's soul yearns. I wish I had never met you. He knows it's not true, not completely. They shift closer, closer, ever closer. 

 

“I wish you'd join me, my sweet, sweet David,” Lestat purrs and brings their mouths together. David shivers, pulls Lestat into his arms. Lestat comes willingly, tilts his head, knows when to accept David's tongue into his mouth. A strangled sound is forced out of David when his tongue brushes by Lestat's fangs, a deep, dark desire he had let fester inside him ever since he first encountered a vampire so very long ago. 

 

His own pulse races. Lestat's is silent, his heart long since dead. The kiss breaks, their foreheads press together. Lestat is smirking, his nails dangerous and sharp on David's neck. 

“I apologize for being so cold,” Lestat murmurs. 

“You're never sorry,” David counters and tilts his head, sighing. “Go on then, have a bite.” His heart races. Thump, thump, thump. Lestat's thumb rubs over a pulsepoint, his lips press a kiss on it. 

“I love you,” Lestat says and then- David's knees threaten to give out, his hands wrap around Lestat's neck when Lestat's fangs sink in. 

 

David is faintly aware of a groan, of Lestat's arms wrapping around his waist.  _Oh, what a bad idea. What a monumentally bad idea._ Yet Lestat keeps him upright, his mouth latched tight against David's neck and David can feel each throb of his own blood dripping out of the wounds, can feel the wet slide of Lestat's tongue on his skin. David's body shudders on its own, his hips jolt. His fingers grip Lestat's neck tightly, dig into his hard skin, feeling how it grows warmer, how it repairs itself quicker. 

 

It's David's blood coursing through Lestat's blue veins now, his life shared with this creature who could kill with such ease but who loves him instead. David shivers, his hands trembling as they now tug on Lestat's hair, as he tries to find words, instead only managing a garbled mumble. But Lestat understands, somehow and withdraws his mouth, sealing the wounds with a kiss and a lick, pressing their mouths together again like it would make it all better. Oh, David throbs, all the way from his head to his neck to his groin. Lestat's mouth is warm, his tongue tastes of blood. 

“You taste exquisite, my gorgeous David,” Lestat purrs, licks back into his mouth, lets David taste himself. David's grip on Lestat is growing stronger now that the lightheadedness is escaping, he can almost stand on his own two feet. 

 

“For a moment I was sure-” David tries, his tongue thick as they finally separate and he can meet his companion's eyes. Lestat is gorgeous even wounded, half-dead, nothing but a husk. But like this, having fed, he's unbearable to look at. David licks his lips, tastes the iron tang of blood and nearly turns away to leave, to go to the bathroom to relieve himself, cheeks flushed with the knowledge that he'd grown hard.

 

“I wouldn't kill you, not exactly,” Lestat says, wraps him into a chilling embrace once more. “I'd make you mine.” David sighs, lets his forehead drop on Lestat's shoulder, lets himself smile when Lestat turns them around in a quick waltz. 

“I'm not going to join you,” David murmurs, tries to ignore the throb in his veins and in his groin. Lestat rubs his back, calls him mon chéri and doesn't say anything else.

 


End file.
